The Party Planner Ch. 04

"I need that cock," Barb announced.

Jon was happy to oblige. He plunged the rock-solid phallus into her and began to thrust hard. With each hit, she cried out her assent. Barb had reached an ecstatic crescendo almost instantly. She held onto his forearms and raised her legs high into the air. The sound of wine sloshing around the satin sheets was indistinguishable now from the sound of Jon's shaft ploughing into her slot. He ground her ass deep into the mattress and her husband's face along with it.

The inner walls of her vagina were so wet and tender that it almost didn't feel like fucking at all, yet Jon's erection was so hard he could feel every ridge of his penis as it brushed against her most intimate flesh. She was looking right into his eyes now, her teeth bared. Her moans began to sound more like growling, like a woman possessed. His cock worked furiously to drive out her demons. He wanted her to feel every last inch of him.

They were both sprinting to the finish line and he hoped she would get there first. Her sweating body began to contort, and her screams grew louder. He was glad to hear it, but then he felt a surge of heat run through the well of his cock. He let out a formidable groan to announce he was coming, savagely driving his pole into her sheath a few more times before pressing it deep and releasing his enormous load inside her.

Barbara, for her part, was vibrating. Her mouth was wide open, yet she made not a sound until Jon pulled his glistening cock out of her. As if he had removed a brick from a dam, a torrent of her juices instantly spurted forth, drenching her husband and Jon even more than they had already been. She strummed her pussy as it continued to gush.

When she was done, she flopped back against the headboard, breathing heavily and laughing. She had almost forgotten about Sean, who had all but suffocated beneath her weight.

"Wow," she said. "Was that good for you, too, Sean?" Barbara leaned over to a nightstand and pulled a hunting knife out of its drawer. Sean was too busy regaining his breath to respond. Barb cut her lover from the headboard, leaving the ribbon wrapped tightly around his wrists. Jon fell backwards to recover at the foot of the bed.

But she was not done with either of them. She crawled down Sean's torso as if it were a land bridge she was using to get to Jon, but she stopped halfway and sat straight up, straddling Sean's head.

"Now, darling," she told him, "you're going to eat his cum out of my pussy." Barb really had it in for Sean tonight; Jon did not know why.

She lowered her sticky labia into his wavering mouth. He lapped at her naked twat as her pelvis rocked back and forth across his face. Before long, Jon could see the gooey white of his own semen being expelled from her snatch and onto Sean's lips. Barbara moaned whimsically as she pawed at her mesmerizing breasts and ran her hands through her long, golden hair.

"Mmm, eat that fucking cum, you cocksucker."

She beckoned Jon to move closer. On his knees he made his way to her and she threw her arms around him. Out of pure greed, she kissed him and groped at him while her husband licked her pussy clean.

"I'm still thirsty," Barb whispered to Jon. "Could you get us some more wine? There's a pantry by the fridge. Pick whatever you want."

Jon saw no reason to argue, so he bounced of the bed and made his way back into the open space of the penthouse. The nighttime vista of downtown drew him towards the windows. He stood there before the skyline, naked but for the ribbon around his wrists. Though his legs were shaking, he felt like a master of the universe. He found himself wondering how the night had turned out for Claire, and what she would think if she knew what he was doing now.

He put it out of his head and made for the kitchen. To the right of the fridge was a pair of folding doors that surely led to the pantry. Jon slid them open. The heat and rumbling of the clothes dryer greeted him. It was dark inside, but he could tell the room was larger than he had expected. Jon fumbled for a light and as he did, he tripped over some kind of stand. He found the light, flicked it on, and nearly jumped out of his skin.

The space was large enough to park a car in. It was more utility room than pantry, though bulk foods could be seen on the metal shelving that lined the walls. The apartment's pipes and air ducts, fuseboxes and cables lived here without pretense, the ideal habitat for the washer and dryer. None of this, however, was of any concern to Jon at the moment.

In the middle of the room, on the cold tile floor sat a woman. She was hunched over, her hands bound to a long metal rod behind her back. From the rod ran a wide leather strap that was attached to a thick collar around her neck. She had a slender figure and long, black hair, though half her scalp had been given a buzz cut, and judging from the locks on the floor, it had been done very recently. It gave her the appearance of a native American warrior, albeit one who had suffered a grievous defeat.

In front of her, among the severed hair was a metal dog bowl filled with what looked to Jon like water and a few floating strawberries. Beside it was the tripod he had just tripped over. It bore the same camera that had documented his interview weeks prior.

He stood there speechless, overcome with angst and confusion. The woman glanced up at him and that's when Jon realized he had seen her before.

"This is Denise," Barbara said. Jon had not noticed his boss come up behind him. She had put on a flowing chiffon robe through which her intimidating lingerie could still be seen. "Her stage name is Taylor Moon. Have the two of you met?"

Jon quickly shook his head.

"No? Are you sure?" Barbara stepped into the pantry and knelt beside the woman. She pulled hard on the leather strap, forcing Denise to sit up straight. Her mascara and lipstick were smeared across her face. A black, padded gag in the shape of a dog bone was stretched across her mouth, locking it open. She breathed loudly through her nose, a pained look in her eyes.

"This little whore likes to bury my husband's cock in her pretty cunt every chance she gets. It's bad for business, if you ask me. Not an efficient use of work hours." Barb let go of the strap and Denise buckled down to the floor.

Barbara stood up. "Did you hear us fucking in the bedroom, Denise? I guess you wouldn't with this dryer going." She walked over to the appliance and opened its door. "This thing should be done by now, and if it isn't, well, no matter." Out of the dryer she pulled a short cat-tail whip and tossed it to Jon.

"This is Jon, by the way. I like to bury his cock in my cunt. Come over here, Jon."

With the utmost trepidation, Jon stepped into the room and joined Barb behind the bound woman. Barbara pawed at his chest and fondled his crotch as they both gazed down upon Denise's tight little ass.

"Oh, Denise," Barb woefully spoke, "I can see you didn't drink your water like I asked you. You know there are consequences for not listening to me."

Jon wondered how Denise was supposed to drink the water with a gag in her mouth, but he quickly recognized that was precisely the point.

"Jon," Barb went on, "I think Denise may have to be punished."

Jon looked at the whip in his hand. He had seen videos of masochists, though he had never had any interest in the kink himself. In most of those clips, though, it was clear the slave was a willing participant. Here, he was not so sure. He stared at the strawberries floating in the dog bowl, then at Denise's bare bottom. It was beautiful and smooth.

"Whip her ass, Jon. And don't stop until I tell you."

His mind was a jumble. In a certain sense, Jon had always been a follower, wanting to do whatever seemed like the logical next step. But what had it gotten him in life? Bravery was the ability to say "no," to change course and determine your own fate. But deep down he knew he couldn't upend someone else's plans. He could make excuses for himself in the morning. He was good at that. Jon knelt down and placed a hand on the small of Denise's back.

"Hold on," Barb exclaimed, "I almost forgot." She hurried over to the tripod and turned on the camera. A green light started blinking incessantly. "Can't have Sean miss all the fun," she said, as she pointed the lense at her actors.

Jon gave himself one last chance to reconsider, but it was a lost cause. The impulse that had allowed another man to suck his cock was the same impulse that raised his hand now and brought the leather whip down. Denise yelped and her ass jiggled momentarily at the blow.

"Much too soft," Barb commented.

Jon flogged her again. This time, it left a red mark on one cheek. The girl started breathing heavily through her nose. He flogged her again, making sure every strip of the cat-tail tasted her flesh. Then again on the other cheek. And again, even harder. Denise was whimpering loudly now each time the leather made contact. Her ass was one big blotch of red and soon the whimpers were turning into screams that got lost in her gag. Her whole body jerked and flinched at every blow, at the anticipation of every blow. Her butt cheeks shook and quivered, which aroused her tormentor to no end.

Denise was crying into her gag by the time Barb finally commanded Jon to stop. It was as if he was brought out of a trance. He could not say how many times he had struck the woman. He didn't want to know. Her ass was so red, he wondered if it would ever fully recover. Jon dropped the whip and stood up tall, breathing heavily, too tired to wrestle with his conscience.

Barbara crouched before Denise and artlessly removed her gag. Sobs tumbled out of the bound woman as she gasped for air. It did not faze her boss. Barb bent down lower, trying to make eye contact with her chastened slave.

"Did you like that?"

Denise whimpered an inaudible reply. Barb asked again.

"Did. You. Like. That?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Those two words came as a great relief to Jon, whether they were true or not. He knew then that everyone had a role to play tonight.

Barbara looked up at Jon and was amused to find that his task had earned his cock a second life. It was almost as if it was trying to communicate with her in semaphore, flicking up and down at the promise of flesh. Barb smiled.

"You know," she said, "it really would be nice to see my husband's whore get fucked by my whore." She placed both her hands on Denise's red buttocks, spreading them wide then scrunching them together. Denise squealed in pain. "Maybe in the ass," Barb mused. "What do you think, Denise? Should my whore fuck you in the ass?"

Denise was too busy whimpering to reply. Once again, Barb ripped her ass cheeks wide and squeezed them back together. Denise howled in surrender.

"Yes, Mistress!"

"What do you want him to do to you?"

"I want him to fuck me in the ass." Her voice was young and frail.

Barb looked up at her servant. "Come here, Jon." She spread the cheeks wide again to expose the young woman's gaping anus. Clearly, this was not Taylor Moon's first bullride. Jon stood over her and crouched down low, both feet firmly planted on either side of her fettered body. He took hold of the leather strap that ran down her spine and lowered his throbbing plunger into the void.

The cock went in slow, to be sure. Barb spit on it for good measure. When it was all the way in, Denise made a growling, guttural sound, like she had just discovered her little brother had been into her diary again. Straining his quads and hamstrings, Jon rocked his tight ass up and down. His cock churned at her depths, carefully at first. Barbara spit on it again before getting up to make sure they were all in frame.

"Are you enjoying this, Sean?" she said to the camera. "I bet you wish your hands were free now."

Denise started to moan now more for pleasure than for pain. She called out to God and hailed each thrust with approbation. Her voice wavered as her body repeatedly caved in at every hump before bouncing back into place again. Her hands, still shackled to the rod on her back, clawed at nothing. Her ass was raised higher than she could afford. She pressed the side of her head into the tile floor to maintain her balance.

The aesthetic of that did not please Barbara. She paced around the couple, brushing clumps of hair aside with her feet before sitting down in front of Denise. She opened her chiffon robe to make sure Denise had clear access to what Barb was about to give her. She lifted her slave's head and slid her Venus mound under the girl's chin. Denise clamped onto it like a magnet, her moans instantly dampened by the labia in her mouth. She had exchanged one gag for another, but this one gave her tongue something to do.

"Ooh yeah," Barb exclaimed. "That feels so good. Lick my clit, you little whore." She swayed her hips like a belly-dancer, pushing her mound further into the girl's face, making sure Denise got every last nook and cranny. Barb started to pant.

"You eat pussy better than Sean," she declared. "Do you suck cock like that? No wonder he likes you so much."

Jon was dripping with sweat. His back ached, his legs were in agony, but the adrenaline kept him pumping. The sensation of his balls slapping against Denise's buttocks was inexplicably satisfying. Each thrust sent a shockwave from his hips through the bound woman, pushing her further into Barb's pussy and making the boss's tits jiggle. His cock felt full, like a fat pinecone inside Denise's ass, but her sphincter, that once-gaping hole, had proven mercilessly tight around his shaft. He knew he couldn't last much longer. He started signaling his imminent demise.

Barb looked up at him as she raked her pussy even harder over the girl's lips. "Are you coming, Jon? I want you to cum on her back. I want to see you explode."

Jon let out a loud moan and jerked his pole out of Denise. He rubbed it feverishly until the clear stuff started squirting out. It fell across Denise's buttocks, her back, even her hands and restraints. It was more than he had expected, which wasn't much.

"Ooh, look at that," Barb said. She let Denise lick her a little more before gesturing to Jon. With his help, she bounded up like a dancer. "You must be exhausted. I think you've earned yourself a nice reward." She looked down upon Denise, who was still on the floor panting, curled up in as much of a fetal position as the rod would permit.

"You both have," Barb said.

A while later, Denise and Jon were soaking in a bath among mountains of foamy bubbles. The round tub was large enough for ten people, which allowed the pair to sit as far away from each other as they wanted. The two employees of Urban Select did not say a word to each other. They just sat there, covered in bubbles, staring into space, trying to ignore the sounds of Sean and Barb having loud, ferocious sex elsewhere in the penthouse.